Eventually
by dokidoki.phanpy
Summary: Thor dealing with his depression after the events of Infinity Wars. A depression consuming him and causing him to suffer from eating disorders. (In this story Thor might seem a bit out of character, but please keep in mind that he's completely devastated at this point. English isn't my first language, so I'm truly sorry if there are some mistakes.)
1. Chapter 1 Despair

**Eventually**

Part One : Despair

A gentle ray of sun across his face, birds chirping, seagulls crying, sounds of New Asgard starting a new day : shopkeepers clamouring at the market, children laughing and playing around, old hags gossiping and fishermen shouting as they were about to sail away Thor knew he was awake. Still, he wanted to pretend he was sleeping.

To be fair, he didn't need to « pretend » because no one would enter his house until he had fully recovered, by order of Valkyrie. But to himself, it felt like he was pretending. He thought that if he kept on acting like he was asleep : not paying attention to the light that was filling the room, closing his eyes and beathing softly, his body and his mind would quickly go back to sleep.

Thor didn't want to wake up. Waking up would mean starting another day, another day after he had executed Thanos and got his revenge, another day after half of Asgard was gone, after half of the universe had been wiped out… because of him. He didn't want to face this new day and its hardships so he decided to stay in bed where it felt like time was stopped and days would never start, where Thor felt away, in a cocoon protected from reality, New Asgard and its responsibilities. He hadn't abandon his people, he had only asked Valkyrie to take care of the town while he was getting some rest.

So, even though he knew he was awake, he acted like he was sleeping, like he had been sleeping since he had chopped Thanos' head off, just like Thor's story had gloriously ended at that point and he wouldn't have to deal with the consequences nor his losses. That's what he wanted because, to tell the truth, Thor didn' t want to act like he was alive anymore. He didn't want to die either : there was a jar of white bread laying next to his bed so he could eat, that was surely enough to let him live… it wasn't actually life that Thor seeked because life would require duties, social interactions and challenges. Thor was more looking for a state of non-death, a state that would prevent him from dying while sparing him the pain of facing life's tragedies.

For now, that was what he desired. He would overcome this fear and return to being king of New Asgard… eventually…

As he laid motionless in his cozy bed, eyes closed but definitely awake, flashes of the past months started to consume his mind.

He could see all over again the eyes of that scared Asgardian boy, begging him for help before ending up butchered by the Black Order. He could smell all over again the oppressive sent of sweat mixed with smoke and sulfur. He could feel all over again the icy and rough metallic floor of the Asgardian refugee spaceship as his own body was being dragged by the huge hands of the Mad Titan. He could taste all over again his own blood in his mouth. He could hear all over again Loki's neck breaking.

Over and over.

Then, everything went faster and faster. He felt his heart beating with more and more panic. It was getting more and more difficult for him to catch his breath.

_ « You should have gone for the head. » _A muffled grunt that had started at the bottom of his throat turned into a desperate wheeze.

_« Thor, where did he go ? Thor ?! » _Tears rolled down his cheeks.

_« I used the stones to destroy the stones. » _He buried his face in his crossed arms and brought his legs closer to his chest, weeping and breathing heavily.

_« I assure you brother, the sun will shine on us again. » _Loki's words resonated within him and stroke him even harder than last time. These words were nothing more than lies, lies he had foolishly believed in. It was almost always raining in New Asgard and Thor hadn't been able to bring half of his people back. He had lost all of his closest friends and relatives and… Loki didn't come back. Loki had lied, there was no sun, no « us » and there would be no « again ». Thor was alone with his thoughts, his fears and, above all, his regrets.

The slaughter of Asgard, Loki's brutal death : these were the reasons for his revenge on Thanos. But now that his quest had ended, he oddly felt even emptier. He had thought that Thanos' death would appease him. He had been wrong. Now, he had nothing else but his own pain. Thor had guessed that, in the end, Thanos was the one who had won despite having got decapitated.

Thor had magnificently lost. He had lost everything to the Mad Titan and was doomed to remember it for the rest of his life. He hadn't been able to save his brother… an his brother hadn't made it. Now Loki was gone for good and Thor hadn't been prepared. He had really hoped Loki would come back… eventually… But Loki had abandoned him ! Not… it was Thor who abandoned Loki, Thor couldn't protect him like he was supposed to and… it was Loki who died trying to protect him… Thor didn't wish to live on whith **that** on his conscience.

Around two o' clock in the afternoon (he guessed) , he finally decided to get up. No matter how much he wanted to stay in bed, there was an inner force taht would make him stand and do something of his day. So everyday he got up, had a shower, glanced at all the paperwork on his desk : his people's requests he should be able to deal with, according to Valkyrie everybody wanting him to come back and that he kept on letting down because he couldn't return when confronted to what it implied. Today wasn't any different, except his nightmares being even darker.

Thor's guilt consumed him, he wanted to go back in the past and fix everything but he couldn't : he had failed, failed his friends, failed his family, failed his people, failed the universe. He knew there was no point believing that things would work out if he had some rest : when he would leave his hut, all of his failures would be there, nothing would have changed and he would have to face the joke for a hero he was.

For the first time, Thor began to think about dying. Gods, how would it solve all his problems ! There would be no point fearing the outside world and New Asgard would finally have a new leader, the one it deserved. However, despite eagerly waiting to die and be released of his responsibilities, Thor hadn't the courage to take his own life. Deep down he was scared it would hurt. He was furious at himself for being such a coward… he threw the jar of bread away, he didn't want to eat, he didn't want to play video games, he didn't want to face his duties, he didn't want to go outside… he wanted nothing, he did : he definitely wanted nothing.

That's why he wanted to die, he just didn't know which way of dying suited him best. He was so angry at himself for being so lame that he wished it would be a slow agony, he deserved it. He also wanted to stay in his bed, to try and meditate : it would be satisfying to find peace quietly before dying, like his Father did.

Then he found it : how to peacefully kill himself. He went back to bed and wondered if things would work out… eventually… if he would grow out of this… eventually… He shook his head and put the soft blanket on his body, closing his eyes as if he was already gone.

He had always thought he had some kind of a talent, a cunning he could use to always get out of trouble, just like Loki had. Maybe Loki did deserve the throne after all, he may have been fit for it all along. Asgard had actually flourished during his short reign disguised as Odin. And Loki had gone for the head while facing Thanos, he had known what to do and hadn't been blinded by anger nor revenge like Thor did. Loki **had** it in him : the makings of a rightful ruler. But Thor wasn't his brother. No matter how much he had admired Loki, he would never be as smart and brave. He couldn't face hardships, things would never work out, there was no hope.

Now, and only now, Thor fully realized that he was nothing. Without his closest allies or his mighty weapons he was useless : he had possessed greatness but neither greatness nor heroism were **part** of him. He wasn't worth supporting, not worth loving, not worth mentioning, not worth existing. He just wished he could disappear and release the others from the painful disappointment they were feeling only by seeing him. He yearned to break free from the agonising hell of being alive. The vision he had of himself was now entirely shattered, broken, gone. He wasn't the mighty Thor anymore, nor the God of Thunder, nor King of Asgard… unworthy of being called Odinson.

A new « himself » had taken his place and he hated this new Thor since he was a coward, a weakling and a fool who let everyone down. He didn't precisely recall when this bastard came to life, was it when he heard Loki's bones cracking ? was it when he ruined his chance to be the universe's last hope against the Mad Titan ? or was it at the very moment Stormbreaker sliced through Thanos' throat like butter ?

Nevertheless what he knew without a doubt was that he was determined to kill this new Thor, this useless, pathetic, unworhty « himself ». And he had decided to do it slowly so that this damn fool would have plenty of time to get some semblance of how truly apalling he was.

His own body would eat up his fat, then his muscles, and finally his organs.


	2. Chapter 2 Rage

Part Two : Rage

Had it been days ? weeks ? months ? He had no clue. He spent his days lying in bed, refusing to eat, alone against his demons. An unbearable hunger decaying both his body and his mind.

Valkyrie and Kurg had visited him, blown away. He hadn't fully grasped what they had said. He struggled properly hearing, properly seeing, properly thinking due to a lack of nutriments. He had guessed it had been something like them being concerned about his state. They had left quickly, not knowing what to do. Good. Thor hadn't wanted them to endure his pathetic presence for too long. He felt awful. He couldn't wait to just die… but his half-god body was making him wait. He simply wished people he cared about would soon be able to get rid of him. He didn't deserve them and they didn't deserve to bear the painful disappointment of seeing him from time to time.

With that in mind, he kept on waiting, waiting for his body to give up on staying alive and finally rest. He craved for this feeling of contentment he hadn't had in years. No matter how hungry he was, this one goal helped him carry on with the pain and fueled his desire for a better future in Valhalla.

What will his comrades think of him when he would finally arrive there ? Will they be proud of him for having defeated Thanos ? Will they blame him for failing to save half the universe ? for letting himseld die ? for letting the Warriors Three, Heimdall, his father, his mother, his sister and his brother die ? Will he see Loki in Valhalla ? In spite of all his efforts to meditate and prepare himself to peacefully leave this world he didn' t deserve living in, his deepest feras would always emerge and torture him. They would question his determination, mock him and leave him even more broken than he had been.

Day by day, he felt more hopeless, unable to see the end of it, hungry, tremendously hungry. Deep down he was scared and he sometimes cried out for help but he was alone : he was fine with being let down since he had given up on everybody. Thus as his cheeks grew hollower, as bigger dark rings appeared under his eyes, as he lost countless hairs all over his cadaverous body, as his humerus, his shoulder blade and his collar bone formed more apparently under his thin and fragile skin, as his legs and arms got the shapes of sticks, and as his ribs and his hip bone seemed to start piercing through his fleshly sheath he despised himself even more.

He felt unsatisfied, guilty, trapped. It seemed he had nothing to hold on to except his desire for death. He was almost already dead inside this corpse he had as a body. And it steamed, and steamed, and steamed, this fury he couldn' t even name. A fury he could only picture as a hooded man stabbing him through the heart and watching him agonizing in pain, except that the hooded man was also him, an evil doppelganger. Who was he ? The one dying or thr one killing himself ? Why couldn' t he rest ? He had done everything he could ! He was exhausted… please, somebody, make it stop ! Let him go and put an end to his suffering : let him finally be happy… he wanted that… more than anything in the world. Please !

Then he felt it. His body freezing, refusing to move… He was leaving, he was glad… He could almost feel his soul soaring… He was heading to a better world, finally !… but he saw nothing, only darkness and he felt nothing, only the frost… And on top of everything else he could hear Thanos' voice in the distance… That wasn' t what he had longed for, he had wanted to rest in Valhalla, away from Thanos. He refused to go to this dark and cold place where he knew Thanos was waiting ! At the very moment his mind thought about it, about how scared to die he actually was, something beyond his understanding occured. It seemed like his dying body had now the upper hand, moving on his own. Thor guessed he had been taken back to his primary instincts. Since his mind was frozen in fear, his body acted on his own… or maybe was it Thor' s inconscious desire for survival ? Anyway, crawling on his hut' s floor, Thor headed as fast as he could towards the jar of bread he had thrown awaydays ago… and ate.

He cries.

He cries becaus it hurts. It hurts because he lost once again, to himself this time. He lost because no matter how much he wants to die, he can't. He can' t because he's scared. He cries because his mind and his body are fighting each other : his mind is furious that he was so close to death and his body is glad to stay alive.

So he eats and he cries. He eats again and again and again until he feels sick. He throws up. Then he eats again.

Day by day, he stops crying. His mind has ceased to resist. Now he wants to eat. Food seems like an efficient way for his body, to recover after that sort of « death experience » while his mind finds it reassuring, like it's protecting him from Thanos, from the truth, from how lame he has become. It gives him a purpose, a very small one but still a purpose, something to live for : eating, drinking, shiting and sleeping.

Each time he puts something in his mouth, chews it and swallows it, he feels content like it puts his conscience and deepest fears to sleep. However it doesn't last for a long time. When he's finished eating, his insecurities come back more brutally, so he quickly eats something else to chase them away. That's why he ends up eating more and more : he desperately tries to fight against his demons.

But is he really fighting them or running away from them ?

It actually felt more and more like a poisonous circle that was trapping him : he ate to forget his fears and fight them, but felt guilty about binge-eating. Food reassured him… but also scared him.

He promised himself that he would find a solution to fight his demons while getting in shape… eventually…

Months later, Thor still wanted nothing more but staying alive and forgetting about Thanos and the decimation. He had found some sort of peace and comfort in his new lifestyle, he wished to keep things that way forever. After all he went through, he was convinced he deserved it. He wanted to enjoy what he had left in this world that had taken so much away from him. He liked playing video games with Kurg and eating pizza, it made him feel secured, away from all the hardships he had faced. And each time he felt frightened or recalled about Thanos and his losses, he thought about how he almost died and ate to reassure himself.

Food was like support to him, something he had now totally assimiliated to safety, serenity and delight. Something that was now his only means of providing these vital emotions : he was now fully trapped in this insane circle. So he ended up guiltier and guiltier as he lost his figure and his abs.

Thor stood between his desire for peace, fun and his longing for making things right. And it tore him apart, depressed him. Lost, confused, he didn' t reallly know what to do anymore. He needed guidance but couldn't find someone to bother with his struggles. That's why he ate even more and got into deeper waters.

The only solution he could think of was to relax, to wait and see. He would move on… eventually.


End file.
